At long last! See, I'm still alive. I intend future updates to come monthly.

Those of you who came back after such a long time, thanks for sticking with me.

3

KC

Ichigo had no idea what the fuck was happening. Grimmjow's face… That expression. It wasn't right. It wasn't him. His face was transformed by a mad, manic grin, perverting his handsome features into something genuinely frightening. He hadn't once been truly scared of Grimmjow in this exchange—pissed, yes, offended, yes, disappointed, yes, but not scared. Grimmjow had offered him only the lowest level of violence, restraining him to his bodily strength and not bringing his (terrifyingly massive, he now knew) reiryoku to bear, signaling that he was, in some sense, at least, just fucking with Ichigo and wouldn't really hurt him.

But now, something had changed, something had snapped, some tether inside Grimmjow had come loose and Ichigo had no idea what to do except to not let Grimmjow get his hands on him. Ichigo didn't know what had brought this on but he knew what it was—madness, a killing rage, almost like Grimmjow had been taken over by his inner hollow despite having said that wasn't how it worked for non-Visored Arrancar. Murderous intent rolled off him in waves, and it wasn't like anything Ichigo had ever felt.

He'd thought he'd known what an opponent's bloodlust felt like before, but Kenpachi's reiatsu felt clean and pure compared to this. Even the ravenous hunger of a Hollow was better than this, this slick, sick, twisted feeling on his skin, the incoherent rage all mixed up with Grimmjow's desire for him. Ichigo knew that if Grimmjow could get at him right now, he wouldn't survive, and he wouldn't die cleanly.

Grimmjow sprung at him, his hand outstretched, and the image of him mid-leap snapped into Ichigo's mind too late for him to avoid being grabbed by his shihakusho's collar and tossed, one-handed, into the air, the adrenaline spike of panic coming too late to do him any good. Fast, he was so fucking fast, above Ichigo now, an elbow slamming into his gut, knocking the wind out of him on a breathy cry and sending him hurtling back to the ground, but instead of the ground cracking and cratering under him, his back connected with Grimmjow's foot as he landed a kick to the middle of Ichigo's back that sent him flying up again, a blow that would have snapped the spine anyone weaker than a Vice-Captain, and as it was, made Ichigo's eyes water in pain.

Grimmjow laughed, and it had about as much in common with the laughter Ichigo remembered from his room aboard the Genryuusai as a ray of starlight shared with a black hole. It was impossibly cruel, no joy in it, no humor, nothing but scorn and mockery and straight-up contempt. "Maybe I'll just kill you after all, Kurosaki. You're a fucking disappointment and it's killing the mood."

Ichigo managed to twist away from the next blow, righting himself in midair and flinging himself away to put a little distance between them before bringing Zangetsu up in front of him, held straight out as he bowed his head and gathered his power as fast as he could. He couldn't screw around here, couldn't waste any time trying to win on his own terms. Like this, he was badly outclassed, and Grimmjow was barely employing anything beyond his bodily strength. The sheer physicality of him, the bulk of his body, the awareness that he was stronger and faster and more experienced made Ichigo's heart pound in his chest like a frightened rabbit's, the stakes of this fight adding a level of fear that he'd never faced before.

He had ceased to be an equal to Grimmjow, ceased to be a person, even, and though he didn't really know why, he could feel that he had become nothing but an object for his amusement and a target for his frustrations. There was something paralyzing about that, and it made him afraid in a way he'd never felt even when fighting the strongest Hollows. They were only one step above animals despite their technological acumen, and they weren't human enough to understand deliberate cruelty or sadism. They just wanted to eat, but Grimmjow wanted to destroy for nothing but the sake of destruction, wanted to hurt him for nothing but the pleasure of inflicting pain—and the pleasure of inflicting it on him, in particular.

What happened? What had brought this on?

Now wasn't the time. He'd figure it out when he had Grimmjow safely disabled. Right now, it was time to fight. "Bankai!"

Energy surged through Ichigo's body, coursing through him with such force that he couldn't contain it and it swirled and eddied around him, thicker and blacker and heavier than it had been before he'd met Shinji, the consistency of it against his skin somewhere between velvet and tar, shot through with wild red sparks and crackles of power.

Grimmjow groaned—honest to god groaned, sounding close to ecstatic—as it washed over him, and between his body's visceral response to that sound and the addictive rush of his Bankai, Ichigo forgot his fear for a moment, excitement rushing in to take its place. This was going to be a hell of a fight, but he could win it. He needed to take back some of the initiative here, and he let that hunger propel him forward, using reishi to increase the speed of his lunge so that he heard the wicked crack of a sonic boom just before Zangetsu connected with the still-sheathed Pantera, thrown up in a hasty block. Grimmjow's eyes were huge and shocked as Ichigo's momentum shoved him back, the two of them locked together by their blades as Grimmjow's feet tore furrows into the dirt, slowing them just enough so that his back only cracked the reinforced concrete of the wall in a wide circle around him instead of crashing through it.

Ichigo leapt back and gathered himself for another charge but before he could complete the motion Grimmjow flung himself at him, laughing maniacally as he toppled Ichigo to his back, and though his head cracked hard off the floor, the surge of panic from having Grimmjow on top of him focused him enough that he could kick out with both feet, the reishi-enhanced blow sending the Arrancar flying upwards. The ceiling must have been a lot weaker than the wall because even though Grimmjow was moving much slower this time, he went straight through, tearing through the blue-painted sheet metal with a grunt of surprise and pain.

As Ichigo got to his feet, his opponent came floating down through the opening he'd made, his slow descent with his arms held open wide a challenge and a show of reiryoku control that Ichigo didn't think Grimmjow could have managed in the first few moments of their fight. Their eyes met and locked, and Ichigo saw that the madness had receded a little, swamped by exhilaration now that he'd realized this wasn't going to be a one-sided beatdown after all. Grimmjow was bleeding from his left shoulder, where the sharp edges metal he'd sheared away had cut him, and maybe getting hurt had brought him to his senses a little, maybe fighting calmed him down somehow, or maybe he just couldn't maintain that hysterical rage for more than a few moments. Either way, Ichigo was grateful.

Grimmjow kept his eyes on Ichigo as he touched down lightly, smirking expectantly, almost the same way he had in the bedroom when he looked at Ichigo on his knees, and slowly, deliberately, drew his sword.

"Come," he demanded, and that was an imperative Ichigo could never resist, not when it came from him.

This time was no different. Ichigo lunged again and this time Grimmjow was ready for him, parrying the blow neatly, the clang and slide of steel-on-steel ringing in the air. It was, Ichigo thought distantly, a particularly beautiful sound.

Grimmjow's counterattack was so fast that it neared the upper limit of Ichigo's speed to block it, but he did, bracing himself to absorb the strike and feeling the force of it shake his bones. And so began an exchange that Ichigo knew no observer had a hope of following, too fast even for him to follow with just his eyes. It took all of his senses, and even then, it was too fast to allow conscious thought to direct his movements. It was too fast to think, too fast to strategize, too fast to do anything but let experience and instinct guide his motions. He let himself fall into it, automatic and yet consuming his attention entirely.

He was getting faster as the exchange wore on, seizing the initiative little by little instead of just reacting and defending. The Visored he'd been training with were all incredibly skilled, but none of them used speed as a primary tactic the way Ichigo and Grimmjow did, and it was taking him a moment to get used to it. Hiyori was extremely agile and could twist out of the way of almost anything, but she wouldn't have lasted against Ichigo if they were trading blows like this—she didn't have the offensive speed to make Ichigo or Grimmjow have to work to block her attacks or the upper body strength to take blow after blow on her sword. Of course, that was why she used the kind of hit-and-run style that she did. Ichigo understood, now, what it meant to be the Sexta, one of only two positions in the Espada that was earned through fighting prowess. Grimmjow was a one-in-a-billion talent, same as Ichigo, and he had devoted much of his life to mastering fighting skills. Ichigo had fought all kinds and all styles, but never had he encountered someone whose bladework was so similar to his own—not particularly refined but relying on raw strength, speed and stamina. He could feel that Grimmjow was still holding back… but then again, so was he.

Watching your opponent's hands and blade was a losing prospect even at a slower pace—like this, it would be suicide. He kept his eyes on Grimmjow's face, just like Urahara had taught him way back when, and so he saw when the cocky smirk on Grimmjow's face begin to falter into a frown of concentration and then, weirdly, curl up into a grin as Ichigo began to seriously press him, gaining ground by inches but gaining it nonetheless.

Abruptly, so abruptly that Ichigo stumbled foolishly when he failed to connect, Grimmjow disengaged, leaping back and into the air, and as Ichigo regained his footing, Grimmjow called out, "Ya passed! Now get ready if ya don't wanna die!"

Ichigo looked up in time to watch him draw two fingers along the edge of his sword, his grin taking on a manic edge again as he brought his bleeding hand up, making a crimson arc through the air as blue light started to gather and condense in his hand, forming a ball that pulsed and strobed as it grew larger, crackling tendrils of power spilling out from it.

He had a split second to decide whether to close the distance and try to interrupt Grimmjow as he charged the attack or wait here and prepare to dodge or block it, and he chose the latter, unwilling to risk taking even a half-charged version point-blank. That thing felt like it could blow a hole through his middle bigger than Grimmjow's.

So he gathered reishi around him and braced himself to take the blow head on—kido-type attacks like this were hard to dodge, and he'd probably be caught in the blast radius no matter what he did. But when Grimmjow cried, "Gran Rey Cero!" and unleashed the collected energy, Ichigo realized that his protections were nowhere near enough. Shit, he thought, shit! as something close to panic flooded his body, a jolt of adrenaline on top of his already overtaxed system. He'd be annihilated by this thing if it hit him like this, not just killed but fucking vaporized. So he pooled the darkness inside him in the palm of his hand, faster than he'd ever done it before, and brought the hand to his face, forming his Hollow mask as he felt his other self coming to the fore.

He gathered power along the edge of his blade and brought it up just as the Cero reached him, bracing himself and leaning into it, and he screamed as the energy of Grimmjow's attack crashed over him like a breaking wave, splitting around Zangetsu as Ichigo poured more and more power into it to avoid being swamped by the incredible storm of light and fury that his opponent had called up. Every nerve in his body shrieked its alarm at the sheer quantity of reishi that he had to channel to meet the attack, and he didn't know what hurt more, his own power coursing through him or Grimmjow's crashing against him.

With one final push he split the storm of energy completely and it parted into two halves, both of them plowing into the ground beside and behind him and exploding on contact with an impossibly loud roar and a wave of heat, throwing up dust and smoke, obscuring his vision until he flared his reiatsu mildly to encourage it to blow away. When Ichigo laid eyes on him again, Grimmjow looked pretty much floored by the fact that Ichigo had emerged completely unscathed, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging a little open.

Ordinarily, without the mask, he could have resisted the urge to taunt his opponent, but as things stood, he grinned up at Grimmjow and shouted, his voice taking on the harsh, warbling tone of his other self, "That all you got, great Espada?"

Grimmjow's eyes widened a little more and Ichigo realized that he had unconsciously repeated his own words from that first night aboard the Genryuusai.

"Oh, no, Kurosaki. No, it ain't," Grimmjow told him, shaking his head, smiling, delighted and wolfish in a way Ichigo had seen before, pleased that Ichigo could take this much of what he could dish out.

Ichigo gazed up at him, disappointed that Grimmjow couldn't see his raised eyebrow but apparently his challenge and confidence, his refusal to be intimidated, came through clearly enough in his eyes because Grimmjow's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing and taking on a bit of their earlier mad gleam as their gazes locked for a long moment.

"Alright! You asked for it, Kurosaki!" Grimmjow called, and laughed, sudden and madly gleeful as he touched down, then tossed his sword into the air and caught it with his left hand, extending it horizontally in front of him and placing the tips of his (long, graceful) fingers atop the flat of the blade, closing his eyes in concentration.

Bankai? Ichigo wondered, then, No, Arrancar don't have Bankai. They have, what do you call it, Re-something.

Dust began to drift up from the ground around him, as the invisible winds of his reiatsu stirred the air, slowly at first in wisps at his feet and then in great long tongues licking the air around him, and finally obscuring him completely in a swirling dust storm. Above the sound of the wind, he heard Grimmjow call out, "Grind, Pantera!"

Then the blurry figure inside thrust out his arms and the dust blew away from him in a great wave, revealing what he had become. The transformation was startling, much more extreme than most Bankai transformations. He looked like a Hollow, now, white bone-plate body armor covering most of his skin except for a deep vee of that was exposed on his chest and touches of black around his neck and at his hands and feet, which had become clawed and catlike, and there were nasty-looking spines protruding sideways from his calves and forearms. Pantera had disappeared, and Grimmjow brandished his claws like they were his new primary weapon

The mascarita along his jaw had disappeared, and now he had one on his brow like a crown, framing his much longer hair and the striking pair of pointed ears he now sported, green like the markings under his eyes, which had become much more pronounced. He looked, Ichigo thought, impressive as hell and very much like himself with the volume turned all the way up—predatory and dangerous, a wild animal and a living weapon (even if his little black-socked cat feet were kind of cute.)

The Arrancar grinned, and Ichigo blinked at the sharp carnivore's teeth that smile displayed, momentarily distracted as the sight triggered an involuntary recollection of standing in front of the mirror, the fingers of one hand on his neck and shoulder, tracing sucker-bite bruises and the still-red crescent shaped teeth marks left over from their time together. He cursed internally as he damn near bit his tongue off as he dodged out of the way when Grimmjow struck out with those claws just as Ichigo was midway through licking his lips. Now was really not the time for getting distracted, no matter how curious Ichigo was about his lover/opponent's new form.

That inauspicious beginning kicked off another high-speed exchange as Ichigo struggled to keep up with Grimmjow's incredible speed. He was twice as fast at least, now, and he was attacking with with all four limbs while Ichigo couldn't block with his arms or legs for fear of getting cut up on Grimmjow's claws and spikes. More cut up, anyway—he was already bleeding from a couple deep cuts on his right thigh and the left shoulder where he hadn't been able to get away fast enough along with a few lighter scratches and rips in his shihakusho from close calls. He'd lose, if they kept this up. He wasn't much slower than Grimmjow, but he was slower, and this time he couldn't seem to get the initiative at all, stuck on defense and getting slowly but surely worn down.

He had to break off, put some distance between them between them and try to end this quickly before blood loss started to become a problem. He suspected that Grimmjow had calmed down enough not to kill him or otherwise do him harm once he had Ichigo down, but he wasn't going to bet on it, and he didn't want to press his luck by ending up temptingly woozy or passed out. It was easier said than done, though, to get out from under this relentless flurry of attacks. He couldn't do much but give ground, letting Grimmjow press him back further and further as he dodged blow after blow. He had to disengage soon or he'd end up with his back to the wall and that would be nothing short of a disaster.

Claws raked at his face and Ichigo cried out as they tore through his mask, three quarters of it crumbling away. This was seriously not a good situation. Grimmjow seemed even more skilled bare-handed than he had been with a sword—he was leaving Ichigo no openings whatsoever and he was right up in Ichigo's space, just short of too close to really fight, clearly just as aware as Ichigo that he'd win if he could keep Ichigo from getting away.

There was nothing else for it—he wasn't going to get out of this without paying for it. He blocked one of Grimmjow's kicks with his leg instead of his sword, biting back a scream of pain as his claws tore through his shihakusho into his vulnerable flesh. But Grimmjow hesitated, just for a split second, the rhythm of their exchange broken by Ichigo's unexpected and illogical move, and Ichigo used that moment to slash at his right shoulder with enough force that he'd have to dodge it instead of block if he didn't want to lose his arm. The momentum of his strike carried him to Grimmjow's right as the Arrancar dodged left and he was out, free, shooting through the air to the other side of the warehouse as Grimmjow cursed, turning after him to pursue.

But the time it took for him to turn was time enough for Ichigo to collect his reishi along the length of his blade as he raised it, waiting until the last possible moment. The quantity of energy was nowhere near his limits but he didn't have time to charge it all the way when Grimmjow was coming straight at him with his claws outstretched, clearly having made the opposite choice Ichigo had made earlier, risking getting hit with Ichigo's attack point-blank to stop it reaching full power.

It was the wrong move, and Ichigo smiled in vicious satisfaction as he slashed Tensa Zangetsu through the air as he released the compressed blade of energy that had collected at its edge. He flung it straight at Grimmjow's middle, trying to knock him back and maybe wind him, trying to buy himself a little more time, and okay, fine, yes, trying to make him hurt, to pay him back for the way he'd hurt Ichigo today.

Grimmjow's grunt of shock and pain, audible even over the crash and crackle of the Getsugatenshou hitting its mark, was tremendously satisfying to the hurt and angry part of him and to that other self that was so tentatively integrated into his dominant personality. What ever else Grimmjow was to him, right now he was the enemy, and so Ichigo dismissed the faint stirrings of guilt he felt at his own enjoyment.

He wasted no time in lifting his blade again, charging another Getsugatenshou, and this time he had long enough to make it a good one. Grimmjow hit the ground, skipped once and hit it again, then got to his feet easily after a moment. So he'd been winded and stunned, not really hurt, by that last attack. That was fine, and that was about to change. Ichigo meant this one to end the fight, and he'd call it a killing blow against most anyone else. Grimmjow, though, was strong enough to handle it.

Grimmjow made no move to interrupt him this time, instead adopting Ichigo's tactic and bracing to meet the attack, his arms crossed in front of him. Ichigo had all the time in the world, then, and he was going to damn well use it. He let the power build beyond the usual point when he would have released it, channelling it through Tensa Zangetsu, his hands locked in a death grip around the hilt of the sword as if it was electricity pouring through him instead of reishi. It hurt, it hurt more and more every second, but Ichigo kept going, using up his reiryoku recklessly, gambling that this would be enough to take Grimmjow down.

He screamed and let fly, aiming for the exposed skin of Grimmjow's chest. The reishi mass was so big and so dark that Ichigo couldn't see what was going on as it hung in the air for a long moment, pressing Grimmjow back as he tried to block. But then it broke through, knocking Grimmjow off his feet and sending him flying across the warehouse and through the wall. Ichigo followed, hoping he'd won while simultaneously hoping that he hadn't hurt Grimmjow too badly.

Outside the warehouse, Ichigo found Grimmjow lying on the ground, bleeding sluggishly from a massive half-cauterized wound that bisected his chest straight down the middle.

"It's over, Grimmjow," Ichigo stated flatly as he stared down at Grimmjow, exhaustion hitting him all at once. His shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath and his wounds ached dully and continued to bleed.

"The hell it is!" Grimmjow hissed, struggling into a crouch, almost losing his balance as a sudden spasm of coughing took him. He recovered, barely, bracing one hand on the ground to keep himself upright and spitting blood. "I'd never lose to some condescendin' fucker who looks down on me like like ya do."

"Dammit, Grimmjow, I—" Ichigo began, but he didn't get the chance to finish because Grimmjow sprung up at him, claws aimed for his belly. Ichigo twisted away so that they only scored his side, his exhaustion gone as adrenaline forced him back into fighting mode, strung tight and strung out as he was.

As Grimmjow followed through on his slash, trying to circle around his opponent, Ichigo delivered a sharp rap to the side of Grimmjow's head with the butt of his sword, sending him crashing to the ground again. "It's over. Grimmjow, please!"

Grimmjow struggled to his feet even as his body armor melted back into clothing and his claws disappeared and rasped out, "It's not over until I make you take back what you said."

"The fuck did I say?" Ichigo shouted, frustrated beyond belief that Grimmjow wouldn't just stay down. The fight was over, and he didn't want to hurt him any more. He didn't want to get hurt any more. And he still didn't understand what this was all about!

Grimmjow lunged at him, and Ichigo had a moment to be surprised that Grimmjow was still this fast, injured and exhausted as he was, before he was tumbled onto his back, Grimmjow's weight pinning him to the ground.

"That I don't deserve ya," Grimmjow said quietly, and as Ichigo looked up at him he saw that the anger had drained away from Grimmjow's face and in its place there was naked hurt so plain to see that it made Ichigo's chest ache despite this whole mess, despite the way Grimmjow's fist was still drawn back, ready to lash out. "Sorry I ain't good enough."

Ichigo surged up and flipped them, pinning Grimmjow's wrists with his hands after a short struggle. Apparently they were going to talk about this now, and he really didn't want to get punched in the face if he said something wrong.

"I said that because you were being a complete asshole, not because you 'aren't good enough," Ichigo explained. "If you'd come in here like a reasonable person and asked me if I wanted to go back to your place or something, things would have been a whole lot different for you. No matter how much I like you, you can't just demand that I drop everything to have sex with you, then try and threaten and bully me into it when I refuse."

"Don't fuckin' give me that—what reason didja give me to think you'd say yes? Ya been avoidin' me since I left even though I know how much ya loved everythin' we did together. Ya want me, but ya won't have me. Ain't no reason ta act like that unless you think yer too good for me," Grimmjow told him. "I'm an Arrancar and yer a Shinigami—I know what yer people think o' mine. That we're monsters, that we're Hollows and killers."

Ichigo groaned internally—what a goddamn mess. Nothing Grimmjow could say would excuse any of his actions today or shift the blame, but Ichigo at least understood a little of what had brought this on, now. He almost wished he didn't, because he could see just how badly he'd hurt Grimmjow by staying away.

"No, Grimmjow," Ichigo sighed. "Well, some do. I don't, though. I don't think you're a monster, though I'll say you have some serious anger management issues. I stayed away because I just… I knew how busy you were, for one, what with this Athrak thing going on, and I… It scares me how much I want you. I thought it would go away when my juramento was over, but it didn't. I can't stop thinking about you, and I know it's more than just physical. I can't do that again, Grimmjow. I can't let myself get hurt like that again. I'm going to have to leave in a couple more weeks, and I don't want to. I want to throw over my whole world for you, even now, even after all this, and I know that's not entirely sane."

"What's so great about entirely sane?" Grimmjow quipped, but then he blanched, horrified.

'What is it?" Ichigo asked, alarmed.

"I…" Grimmjow began, the oddest expression on his face. "Ichigo I… I tried to… I tried to force ya to have sex with me, and when you refused… I could have killed ya. I could have raped you, if ya hadn't been as strong as you are. I wanted to… I wanted to… Oh, Mad Creator."

"You didn't, though," Ichigo pointed out, not at all sure he ought to be trying to comfort Grimmjow over this. "And I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have after the first couple minutes of fighting. Anyway, I can take care of myself."

Grimmjow closed his eyes, his head turned to the side. He asked, "You know how my mom died?"

Puzzled, Ichigo said, "No."

"My ol' man killed her," he said, eyes still closed. Ichigo could only stare, aghast. "Killed her in a rage, just like that one. He'd always beat her, ever since I could remember, and I could never do anythin'. He'd jus' slap me aside, like I wasn't even worth beatin'. He never had anythin' but contempt for me as a kid cause I was a skinny little thing, weaker than other kids my age until I got to be about twelve. The way he'd look down his nose at me… But tha's a different story. Anyway, once I got a little older, though, I started gettin' strong enough ta force him to hit on me and not her until he'd calmed down enough to be satisfied.

"But then I moved out. He was insistent that I join the mercenary corps, cause he was the Quinto. I joined the regular military instead, but that didn't matter because either way I was away a lot. And my mom… She lied to me, told me it had got better. That he'd quit gettin' drunk, that he'd mellowed out with age. And I believed her, I deluded myself into believin' her, up until one night I got the call. His boys at the IMD covered it all up, of course, but I knew what happened. The old man… The guilt ate him up, and he died a couple years later from liver failure.

"It's a family curse. All the Jaegerjaques men have tempers like that, as long as anybody can remember. I thought I had it under control—I ain't done a thing like I done today since I was a kid. But I got to make an effort to keep myself in check, I got to work at it all the time. Sleep enough, eat right, do a lot o' heavy sparrin', get laid often, that kind o' shit as well as some other stuff. I even fuckin' meditate, if ya can believe that. But this Athrak thing and everythin' with you… Sorry, I'm not tryna make excuses, I'm just tryna explain why yer right to think ya oughta stay away."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Ichigo told him, deciding that came first and foremost. He didn't think he'd ever heard Grimmjow say so much at once, let alone about himself and his past. "And thank you for telling me all that, it helps me to understand what happened here today. But it doesn't scare me, not really. In fact, it makes me think that if you're ever going to be with someone, it's got to be someone who won't let you push them around and who's strong enough to hold their own against you if it really comes down to that. And I think we've established both of those things."

Grimmjow finally opened his eyes, his expression losing that awful, defeated cast as he stared up at Ichigo, obviously quite nonplussed at his response.

"I know what it feels like to think people should be afraid of you," Ichigo told him softly, his voice still carrying the strange, warbling tone of a Hollow. He released one wrist to touch Grimmjow's cheek, stroking it gently as he continued, "I know what it feels like to struggle with the darkness inside you. It's not the same thing, but I think it's similar enough for me to understand, at least a little. And I know how good it feels to find someone who isn't scared. Please don't mistake the fact that I'm not scared of you for looking down on you. It's strange here, where everything exists in a hierarchy, but you and I are equals. I owe you respect, but I don't owe you the respect of a subordinate to a superior. I do not follow your orders. I'm not your sworn man, Grimmjow. But if you ask something of me, I'll do my best to give it."

Grimmjow used his free hand to grab the back of Ichigo's head and pull him down, kissing him hard, closed-mouthed and something close to desperate, clearly overwhelmed. Ichigo kissed him back just as fervently—it had been two weeks since they'd seen each other, and he was still keyed up from the fight and off-balance from their intense emotional exchange.

Ichigo's chest hurt from some mix of emotions that he couldn't name, so intense that his throat felt tight. He was probably insane, to forgive Grimmjow what he'd done. But to know that he bore such deep emotional wounds, to know that he worked so hard to overcome the bad hand he'd been dealt and failed sometimes anyway, Ichigo couldn't help but feel protective. Grimmjow had fucked up, big time. But there was no real damage done, and the thought of getting up and leaving and never seeing him again hurt even more than it had before.

He'd seen the rawest places of Grimmjow's soul today, and in a way he felt honored to see what no one else did, to know that part of him. Ichigo felt the last of his Hollow mask crumble away just as he felt Grimmjow's mouth open under his with a soft cry, his arms tightening around Ichigo, heedless of the pain of having Ichigo pressed tight to his wounded chest.